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Post by Nomz on Sept 16, 2024 0:01:56 GMT
The heated look he sends her way has her eyes darting through the triangle method: eye, mouth, eye again. A soft little smirk and she glances away.
Felicia invites herself up and onto a counter, sitting close enough to him to see his hands without being in the way. Her ankles cross as she listens to him, hands resting on either side of her thighs. The sound of the oil in the pan is relaxing, and familiar in this unfamiliar place.
"USB, dead drop, air-gapped computer only," Felicia says, ticking off on her fingers as she watches the oil dance in the pan. "I won't be caught," she assures with a shrug, tone disinterested, "And I am always on my own. You don't have to worry about me holding my breath for your assistance."
"The real question is: why should I come back to you with the painting once I have it? What keeps me from just selling it as I see fit and pretending we never met?" It is both genuine and a test in and of itself. To what lengths is he willing to go to? Just how important is this painting? Cat has a feeling it may be less about the artwork and more about Luther. She just doesn't see how or why. Even now, when a real question is on the table, her eyes are trailing across his body and taking note of scars and birthmarks alike.
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Post by Countess on Sept 18, 2024 2:49:42 GMT
"Because we made a deal," Matias says, answering her easily enough. "Because you might want work from me in the future, and you don't want to burn this bridge yet," he adds, then shrugs.
Yes, in the light, with so little on... it is clear why Matias in his public life covers as much as he can. There are scars, burns, and so much more littered across his skin. Most notable is what is very clearly a burn that takes up all of the inside of his left arm. It starts at the elbow, goes to the armpit, then goes down his torso. There, it continues down the length of his body, a searing line as if her had landed on a bed of coals with his arm outstretched. Matias is also missing his right nipple, an eye shaped scar where it should be. Raised, circular balls of knotted flesh mark bullet wounds. There are a smattering of clean cuts, too, as if swiped here or there by a smooth knife. He is almost more scar than man.
"Still like what you see?" Matias asks, amused. He dishes out one of the arepas, sliding it over to her. All it takes is a bite- he can cook, too. "My life in the military is not a kind one, not what I am doing now with STS. Nor were the people I was with," he says, putting one on the pan for himself.
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Post by Nomz on Sept 18, 2024 12:03:04 GMT
His simple answer is the correct one. Felicia's gloves protest quietly as she pulls them off, revealing slender and pale fingers. The knuckles of her left hand are painted with yellow-green bruising. She tucks these into a pocket at her waist, leaving them half hanging out. There is a part of her that is starting to like Jacinto and she's been around enough to know the mistake that can be.
"Yes." A simple answer is returned. Her eyes linger on his scars as she tries to discover the stories behind them. "When I broke my arm as a child, the scars were very thick and bright. You grow up surrounded by the princess image you have to live up to and that kind of thing damages your self-image."
"I remember my dad telling me it didn't matter what other people thought. 'I think it’s more important your relationship with them. Then you’re less likely to accept it when someone uses them against you.'" She stops the little dish slid her way, looking down at the arepa in thought. A fond smile slides into place and she hums as she reaches for her snack. The corn cake gives easily under her fingertips, tearing down the middle even as Felicia hisses in pain. Despite the pink burns on the tips of her fingers, she holds out half of the arepa to Matias with the gentle persuasion of expectation. The motion is so natural. "I like them and you wear them well."
Felicia smiles happily as she nibbles on her half of her arepa. It would appear warming and feeding the cat was the correct choice.
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Post by Countess on Sept 18, 2024 13:32:19 GMT
Matias' eyes are drawn to the bruises. He can only imagine how she got those. A fight? She doesn't seem like the type to engage in a fight often, not that she can't hold her own. No, she seems smart enough to know a fight means injuries, means time recovering, means resources wasted that are better spent elsewhere.
"Scars are revered by men," he says, then adds, "To a point." Matias lets that sizzle for a moment, along with the arepa on his pan. With a free hand, he reaches up to his right pectoral, with the eye shaped scar. "Torture. They grabbed the nipple, pulling it out as far as they could, then took scissors. Snip," he says, giving a shrug. It explains the shape of it. "Scars mean you survived. Men really like that. Means you're strong. Means you don't have to think about what actually happened. Means you don't have to confront the emotions and trauma. A scar- it means you are alive. That's good enough, right?"
Matias takes the half of the arepa, fingertips brushing hers. He lifts it to his mouth, then leaves it there, chewing as it hangs. It seems so... natural. Intimate. Something she could see any midnight meeting. He is so genuinely himself right now-
Well. Mostly. A lot less fur.
Matias flips the second. "In trouble?" he asks, lot looking at her knuckles, but still referencing them.
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Post by Nomz on Sept 18, 2024 15:38:49 GMT
"It isn't," Felicia says around the arepa in her mouth with a shrug as if she isn't denying a way men deal with their trauma. She never cared for the strong silent types who try to bury the parts that make them human like it is something to be ashamed about. Part of it, she knows, is due to watching her father fight to overcome his own upbringing.
Those grey eyes turn to her hand, fingers flexing despite the mostly dulled ache the movement causes. "I was ending the trouble. I may be a thief, but even I have my standards. 3 on 1 in an alley tucked far from the notice of anyone else." Felicia takes another bit of her food as she talks, "I just made it a fair fight. Nothing big or important."
She gestures at his chest with her bruised hand and a little head tip.
"Trade? I'll let you see if you let me see," Felicia says so sweetly like she isn't aware that the entire deal is weighed heavily in her favor.
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Post by Countess on Sept 20, 2024 0:18:41 GMT
"Ending trouble?" Matias asks, taking the second arepa off the pan, tearing it in half. The heat of it makes his fingertips turn pink, too. Pain for pain. He knows the gift of it, and relishes reciprocity. The half of the pan fried dough is offered to her, cheese oozing. The pan is taken off the burner, left to the side to cool.
"By all means, Gatita," Matias rumbles as he moves away from the stove top to her other side. There, he leans, his back to the countertop as he dutifully eats his share of the food. He can always make more. Hell, he could even make them more complex. But, for now, this is enough. A midnight snack.
"Did you win?" he asks, curious. He isn't accusing, nor is he second guessing her. It is simple curiosity. "Do you need to be avenged?" he continues, something dark in his tone almost coming to the surface. No, he will be on his best behavior tonight. He takes her hand, inspecting the bruising closer. She knows what she is doing- he can tell from the pattern of it all. Healing, judging by the yellowing. The swelling is already minimal.
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Post by Nomz on Sept 20, 2024 3:25:40 GMT
"Yeah, ending it. Sometimes, the people who usually deal with it aren't available. Sometimes, I know I can handle it, so I do." Felicia says this all like she's talking about recycling plastic at a PTA meeting. She pushes the rest of her food into her mouth in time to watch him take his arepa and tear it in half. She notes his pink fingertips as she happily takes her gift with a murmured 'thank you.'
When Matias takes up his place next to her, Felicia leans towards him a little and sets her arepa on the little dish on the counter. She wipes her hand on her suit before touching his wrist where he holds her hand, inspecting her bruising. Curious fingertips trace up his forearm and bicep, searching and investigating each raised piece of flesh.
"I won," she answers quietly, distracted and saying more than she means to. "They thought he was an easy victim because it was just him and his little boy. Guy was putting up a good fight, all things considered. They weren't the type that would have just robbed him and left it at that. I knew that and he knew that."
Her fingers dig just a little into his shoulder as a clear indication that he should come a bit closer so she wouldn't have to stretch so far. Felicia ghosts over his collar and pectoral before her eyes flicker up to his expression, checking for any signs of discomfort.
"Guy and his kid walked away. The others escaped with their lives." Well, they mostly escaped. Felicia may have led the police to two of their locations when she realized they had warrants on them. Not that Jacinto needed to know that much. If he doesn't stop her, those clever fingers will reach down to the edge of his burn scar and lightly brush over the rough skin. "Why do you ask? Were you going to avenge me, Mr. Jacinto? Gonna take care of the little cat's enemies?"
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Post by Countess on Sept 24, 2024 0:50:40 GMT
Matias' arms are mostly defensive wounds, quick and light. Felicia can follow the lines easily enough. A few are jagged, like something had torn into him rather than cut. He doesn't have any bruising like her, the only coloration changes from his tanned skin aren't as colorful as a recent wound. Her wrist is released, Matias appeased with his inspection. Her answers are satisfactory enough, too, so he bends at her pull. Another bite is taken from what remains of his midnight snack. There isn't any discomfort at her exploration, nor is there anything else on the other side of the spectrum. He is very used to this fascination, and tends to react to it passively. It isn't often he shares these as candidly as he is now, however. Typically, it is in a very different context.
"You did well, then," Matias says, finishing off his little meal. "You hadn't struck me as someone who jumps into the fray... but I suppose if you needed help, you wouldn't ask for it, would you?" he says, chuckling. "Always on your own, always taking care of yourself and sometimes others...
"I loathe anyone who victimizes the little guy," Matias says with a shrug. It is a great effort to keep himself calm in this moment, because his thoughts drift back... so far back... "I cannot stand it. A father and his child? Scum," he murmurs. He sounds like someone with a story, the kind that changes how you look at life, the kind that kills innocence.
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Post by Nomz on Sept 24, 2024 15:15:08 GMT
Maybe it's a bit of madness. Maybe it is the late hour. Or, it could be that Felicia is warm, fed, and oddly comfortable. Whatever it is, she finds herself sticking her tongue out at Matias as he chuckles. She knows he's correct and she has her own scars to prove his words.
"No point in asking for or hoping for help when you're a solo act," she says simply, reaching with her freed wrist for her arepa and taking a small bite. Felicia offers it up for him to take a bite as well, eyes focused on his burn. It is easily the most interesting of his set. "If I thought I could rely on people to help, I'd be on a team. But teams are notoriously unreliable."
Felicia nods her head once as he talks. It matches up with the ferocity that he had when they last spoke. His anger at being compared to other company owners. She tips her head up from her exploration to look up at him and he can see when she comes to her decision.
"Care to share the story, Jacinto?"
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Post by Countess on Sept 25, 2024 2:45:34 GMT
Matias can understand that sentiment. Jaguars are solitary creatures; seldom do they form groups. Scientists still cannot agree on what to call them. He shakes his head at her offer of the last bit of arepa, finding himself satisfied with what he has eaten. "I have had mixed experiences," Matias says honestly. He likes his solitary life. Perhaps she likes hers.
There is a faint line of a thought he almost goes down. He abandons it quickly.
"I could tell you," Matias says, pushing up off the counter top to start cleaning. "But it means telling me a story. That's how it goes, right?" he says, chuckling.
"It is road rash," Matias starts. "I was in the military for a number of years. The people I counted on to protect me, and they I, learned about a part of me they didn't like," Matias says, looking away. He isn't about to tell her about his other side... "It was a different time. Even now, bisexuality is not fully understood by the masses, LGBTQ+ individuals included. I was not out at the time, but certain rumors were going around. My fellow soldiers took offence. They assumed I was gay, and would "prey" upon them. I have always found it interesting how men assume other men, should they be queer, will be forceful towards them. Speaks a lot to how they see men in general, and how deep rape culture goes," he murmurs.
"They got me in my sleep, dragged me behind a car. I was able to free myself, and hide."
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Post by Nomz on Sept 26, 2024 3:12:21 GMT
Felicia takes the last bite of her snack, watching Matias push away from the counter to clean. A part of her itches to help, but the mess is not nearly so large as to offer her much of a chance. She lifts the little plate he had given her, offering it to him as he talks.
She does her best not to react outwardly to his story, taking the pieces apart and seeing them for what they are. On the inside, her heart is beating harder in anger. You always hear stories about the atrocities that people commit against their own for perceived evils. It is another thing, she knows, to hear it from someone who was a victim of said crime.
"Did anything happen to them," she asks, voice steady when it should not be. Felicia thinks back to what Matias had said about scars and she wonders- "Do you revere your scars because they show you survived?"
She knows it is a delicate subject even as her lips press out the words. Still, she wants to know what he thinks. Curious to a fault. Here and now, his words have weight he has not earned.
"What do your scars mean to you?"
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Post by Countess on Sept 28, 2024 15:52:32 GMT
Matias takes the plate, not looking up from his task. He seems to have great spatial awareness. His shoulders tense at her question, head tilting to the side as he grits his teeth.
"No," Matias murmurs. "But I was discharged. Medical, so honorable. Things were buried, as they usually are. Documents were signed. Silence assured. In this day and age, of course, I was able to have the confidentiality of the event lifted, and I am speak freely on it. There were no remunerations, it was illegal to be queer and in the military at the time," he says. He is just one of many like him. Willing to serve their country, only to be cut off like a an unpleasant branch.
"I do not revere scars, but I revere blood spilt in sacrifice of something greater than myself. I do not buy into many ideals of toxic masculinty," Matias says, shrugging. He is just about done with his chore.
Matias thinks on her question, pondering it. "Scars are just stories. Memories. Reminders. They are physical manifestations of my life, like a roadmap of my journey. They won't go with me when I die, they won't change who I am inside, and they won't profess to any weakness or strength. They are, I am, it was. Nothing more.
"What about you? What are scars?"
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Post by Nomz on Oct 4, 2024 4:01:49 GMT
Felicia chews on that information and how Matias reacts to every second of their conversation. She thinks through the information she has on him. An ex-military man made a life for himself despite the questionable reasons behind his being discharged from the military. Still, he carries the passion for doing better for those around him.
For every piece of him she is given, Felicia finds herself more and more confused. There is a bigger picture, something that is just not quite sitting right. How was she supposed to figure it out if she did not know where to poke and prod? How much further would he let her get?
She lets her eyes trail over his sides and his legs as he answers her question about scars. Felicia isn't sure what to make of it when he turns the question on her.
"Scars are reminders of a time when my luck was on my side and the injury was not enough to put me down." A slender shoulder lifts and falls as if there was nothing more to be added. "They are not particularly special in their own right and some may make for entertaining stories when our cups overfloweth." It is clear from her tone that she never expects such a day to come. No, Felicia's cup will always be a few drops shy of full.
Curious eyes dance along his kitchen, taking in the space around her. His home is larger and quieter than hers. This is not a good thing and not a bad thing. Matias is simply different.
"We never went over where the dead drop will be, Papi."
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Post by Countess on Oct 5, 2024 17:25:00 GMT
Matias hums slightly as he cleans, finishing up quickly enough. There wasn't much of a mess to begin with. He finds himself liking her answer, even if there is a jaded edge to it. "Celebrate where you can, Gatita. You never know when Mictlāntēcutli will call you home," he murmurs. He knows Death well, all too well. They have danced together a few times, and he is tempted every time to not let go. He is a warrior, however. His place is not in the underworld. Warriors and women who die in childbirth get the greatest honor- to pull the sun across the sky. A couple years of this, then he reincarnates. The others come back as hummingbirds, he... is not so lucky. The work of the Nagual is never done.
"Two days from now, I will tell you exactly where to go. I expect you to be ready, as it will only be there for you for... half an hour. May I have your number?" Matias asks, going back to his place leaning on the counter top. He does not offer anything to write on, nor his phone.
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Post by Nomz on Oct 5, 2024 20:52:11 GMT
"Two days from now, I can be ready." Felicia agrees easily, watching as Matias takes up his spot next to her again. She isn't sure about the name that he used, but she tucks that curiosity to the side just this once. He does not offer her a phone nor does he get anything to write with.
Felicia reaches into a pocket on her belt and pulls free a small black stick. Her teeth close down on the cap as she pops it off. Those grey eyes watch his expression as she reaches for his wrist and turns the inside of his forearm up in her lap. The eyeliner pencil is cool as she writes out her number on his skin, adding a little heart at the end.
"Try not to lose it, gorgeous. I'd hate to fall off your radar." She lets her hand linger for a few seconds longer. Cat hops off the counter, stretching her arms above her head and straightening her spine. With a satisfied little sigh, she looks up at him and smirks. "Care to walk a lady out?"
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